Free Hearts of Stone by Simon Scarrow Page B

magazines or on film. I want to find a good man. With prospects, yes. But one who will love and respect me.’
    ‘As your father does me,’ her mother said gently. ‘He surely does. But there is no race to find such a man, my girl. He will come, in time. Until then, do as your heart bids.’
    ‘Your mother is right,’ said Katarides. ‘While you are still young, see as much of the world as you can, read as many books as you can find. Don’t be satisfied with the United States. Go to the Far East. Go south to Africa. Stand in the shadow of the pyramids and on the shores of Madagascar. Fall in love, Eleni. Not just once, but many times, before you marry. And then tell your children tales of all you have seen, and all you have known. Then you will have lived . . .’
    ‘Thus speaks the poet!’ Thesskoudis laughed and poured himself another raki. ‘And have you done all these things?’
    ‘Not as many as I would like,’ his host admitted. ‘But I will. Or die in the attempt.’
    His guests laughed. The poet’s gaze turned to his son. ‘And you, Andreas. How would you answer the question? What are your plans? Since you seldom speak of them to me.’
    Andreas’s mirth quickly faded and he looked down at his hands. ‘I know one thing. I will not become a poet. I lack the necessary feeling for words.’
    ‘Yes you do. For now. But I am no less proud of you.’
    ‘I do not ask you to be proud of me,’ his son responded with quiet defiance. ‘There are other paths a man can follow.’
    ‘Of course there are. The choice is yours.’
    ‘Then I have chosen.’
    Katarides could not hide his surprise. ‘Oh? Perhaps you should explain youself.’
    Andreas ran his tongue along his lips and nodded, his dark eyes making his expression intent and determined. ‘I have decided to join the navy, Father.’
    The poet frowned. ‘The navy? Why?’
    ‘For the very reasons you gave. To travel and see the world.’
    ‘There are other means.’
    ‘I know. But I also love my country and want to serve Greece. And defend her.’
    ‘From who? That blustering fool Mussolini? He will never amount to much. And when you serve Greece you also serve that scoundrel General Metaxas, and that milksop king of ours whose strings Metaxas is pleased to pull.’ For the first time that evening, Katarides’s composure failed him and a raw expression of anger and pain creased his features as he continued to address his son. ‘Think again. If you serve men like Metaxas, then you serve those who would stamp down on democracy and even the expression of views that run counter to theirs. Andreas, you would be holding the gun that is pointed at those people of Greece who even dare to question their government. Would you point it at me? Your father?’
    Andreas sighed. ‘You tell us to choose our own paths in this life, and now it seems that you hold true to that principle only as long as I agree with your politics. I am not a leftist. I have read about what the communists have done in Russia. I do not want that inflicted on Greece. I have made my decision. I will join the navy. In fact . . . I have already sent my application to the naval academy.’
    ‘Then pray God they turn you down.’
    Andreas stared back directly, with a thin smile of satisfaction. ‘I have already been accepted. I am leaving Lefkas to begin training at the end of October.’
    ‘Oh, no . . .’ Eleni muttered as she stared at Andreas with a pained expression.
    Katarides was silent for a moment, and there was a tense stillness around the table. Then he sat back in his chair, picked up his raki and flipped it down his throat before he spoke again. ‘I see. Now I know your mind. I hope it is what you want.’
    ‘It is.’
    ‘Then you will appreciate the treat I have arranged for tomorrow,’ Katarides responded with a touch of bitterness. ‘To say goodbye to our German friends.’
    Peter exchanged a brief enquiring glance with his father but Karl Muller shook his